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Weapon of Choice
Sep. 30th, 2001 04:01 pmSome people have sabers, and some scimitars; I wield a formidable wok.
For those not familiar with the term, the wok is a versatile pan used in Chinese cooking. It is shaped like a large half sphere, with handles on both sides. Although its most acclaimed use is stir-frying, it works very well as a stewpot, and can make a fine crepe. All in all, if I had to limit my kitchen to only one cookpot, the wok would be it.
Resultantly, in a stunning display of fitting form to figment, the wok is the only pan I have chosen for the kitchen. Certainly, there is also a skillet and a saucepan, but they were picked out by Valancy.
Truth be told, I think she fears the wok as much as my Ugly Yellow Chair.
In any case, it was left to me to season it -- something I put off until two days ago. At about eight P.M., I declared that all portends of the day had strongly indicated the favorability of such an activity. If questioned more closely, I might have admitted that the portends to which I alluded were simply my being in the proper mood, but my dealings were fortunately left shrouded in mystery.
I don't know whether you've ever had to season a wok, but it's an involved and dangerous process. For once, I am not exaggerating for dramatic effect -- it really is torturous. To begin with, you have to fill the wok with water, and boil it for fifteen minutes. Then, without letting it cool, you have to dump out the water and scrub it inside and out with a soapy scouring pad while pouring more scalding hot water over it.
From this point onward, soap is never to touch the wok; otherwise, the seasoning process must be repeated.
Not that we've actually gotten to the seasoning yet -- all that first part was simply to remove the protective coating and prepare the wok for seasoning, (which must immediately follow).
To season:
Place the wok over a medium heat. Add two tablespoons of hot oil. For the next ten minutes, use one hand to roll the wok back and forth over the flame so that all of the sides are equally heated while using the other hand to smear the oil around the inner surface with a paper towel. After the ten minutes are up, remove the wok from the burner and let it cool. The metal will have absorbed the oil and darkened slightly.
Repeat this 4 to 5 times.
Astonishingly enough, I managed not to burn myself.
Until, that is, the very last minute. Literally. At that point, I received a two inch long burn on my right inner forearm. The conversation went something like this:
Wok: Haha! You have seasoned me, so now I have seasoned you!
Me: Bastard! I suppose that's fair.
Wok: We may now work together for justice, as your flesh has given
me life.
Me: Indeed. I will forever carry this scar as a reminder of our
bond, and our vow of revenge upon those who cannot recognize
fine cuisine.
Me & Wok: They will pay. With rivers of blood.
I find myself powerfully reminded of the death-maze final trial of a Shaolin monk, which forever burned him with the dual dragon marks.
For those not familiar with the term, the wok is a versatile pan used in Chinese cooking. It is shaped like a large half sphere, with handles on both sides. Although its most acclaimed use is stir-frying, it works very well as a stewpot, and can make a fine crepe. All in all, if I had to limit my kitchen to only one cookpot, the wok would be it.
Resultantly, in a stunning display of fitting form to figment, the wok is the only pan I have chosen for the kitchen. Certainly, there is also a skillet and a saucepan, but they were picked out by Valancy.
Truth be told, I think she fears the wok as much as my Ugly Yellow Chair.
In any case, it was left to me to season it -- something I put off until two days ago. At about eight P.M., I declared that all portends of the day had strongly indicated the favorability of such an activity. If questioned more closely, I might have admitted that the portends to which I alluded were simply my being in the proper mood, but my dealings were fortunately left shrouded in mystery.
I don't know whether you've ever had to season a wok, but it's an involved and dangerous process. For once, I am not exaggerating for dramatic effect -- it really is torturous. To begin with, you have to fill the wok with water, and boil it for fifteen minutes. Then, without letting it cool, you have to dump out the water and scrub it inside and out with a soapy scouring pad while pouring more scalding hot water over it.
From this point onward, soap is never to touch the wok; otherwise, the seasoning process must be repeated.
Not that we've actually gotten to the seasoning yet -- all that first part was simply to remove the protective coating and prepare the wok for seasoning, (which must immediately follow).
To season:
Place the wok over a medium heat. Add two tablespoons of hot oil. For the next ten minutes, use one hand to roll the wok back and forth over the flame so that all of the sides are equally heated while using the other hand to smear the oil around the inner surface with a paper towel. After the ten minutes are up, remove the wok from the burner and let it cool. The metal will have absorbed the oil and darkened slightly.
Repeat this 4 to 5 times.
Astonishingly enough, I managed not to burn myself.
Until, that is, the very last minute. Literally. At that point, I received a two inch long burn on my right inner forearm. The conversation went something like this:
Wok: Haha! You have seasoned me, so now I have seasoned you!
Me: Bastard! I suppose that's fair.
Wok: We may now work together for justice, as your flesh has given
me life.
Me: Indeed. I will forever carry this scar as a reminder of our
bond, and our vow of revenge upon those who cannot recognize
fine cuisine.
Me & Wok: They will pay. With rivers of blood.
I find myself powerfully reminded of the death-maze final trial of a Shaolin monk, which forever burned him with the dual dragon marks.
